Escaping The Web
by SomewhereBeyondReality
Summary: "Politics is not a game. It is an earnest business." Monica Geller has long resisted the expectations of a Senator's daughter. But it's when she falls for lowly aide Chandler Bing, that things really start to get complicated. Meanwhile Chandler fights his growing feelings for a woman he can never have, and struggles with secrets that could ruin everything. Modern Day AU. Mondler.
1. Chapter 1

**Title:** Escaping The Web  
**Author**: SomewhereBeyondReality  
**Rating**: K  
**Summary:** "_Politics is not a game. It is an earnest business." _Monica Geller has long resisted the expectations of a Senator's daughter. But when she falls for lowly aide Chandler Bing, things really start to get complicated. Meanwhile Chandler struggles with his growing feelings and issues from the past that could threaten everything. Modern Day AU. Mondler.  
**Disclaimer:** Yeah, you've got me, I'm a Friends writer. After 10 award winning seasons, I decided to branch out and try fan fiction.  
**A/N:** Oh god this story. This has actually been in the works since about _March_ but has taken me forever to publish it. Between having written it on paper and having to type it up, getting distracted with one shots and of course starting university this year, it's a miracle the first chapter has finally arrived. So very intense moment. I have about half of it written on paper, but no promises on when the next chapter will be up. I'm trying to edit my stuff more, but I don't like editing much so sometimes work ends up sitting in my folder for a while until I get around to it. Pretty simple premise: AU, Monica and Ross are Senator's children, and Chandler is a Senators aide, Phoebe, Joey and Rachel are all involved. The premise was partially inspired by Jana's 'Digital Fairytale' but develops very differently.

**X-X**

"I'm so happy for you guys!"

"Thanks Mon."

Ross and Rachel smiled, wrapping their arms around each other and staring goofily into each other's eyes. Monica resisted rolling her eyes at their soppiness.

Ross withdrew his arm from his new wife, and tugged her hand.

"Rach, we'd better make the rounds."

"Ugh, do we have to?" She groaned.

"Yes, it's very important that we appreciate our guests."

"Ok, but I'm not talking to your dinosaur friends. You'll be on that homo-erectus stuff for hours!"

"They're academics! It's better than your society friends, who can't say anything without screaming."

"Hey!"

"Oh god! Just _go._" Monica groaned, waving her hand at them. "You'll have plenty of time to argue later!"

The two of them smiled at her sheepishly, and walked off round the tables. Monica smirked. Thank god they'd finally made it, Ross-And-Rachel had been an on/off drama for years, and she was still surprised they'd settled down enough to get married.

_After all. _She mused. _They've only broken up and got back together like a billion times._

Smiling slightly, she headed for the open bar, trying not to look at the elaborate wedding decorations adorning around the cavernous hall. There were ice sculptures around the edge of the room, lights were twisted around every pillar and was that a Greek statue by the top table?

_Oh god._

Monica hated how her politics and her parent's expectations twisted something personal into a public show. This was _Ross and Rachel's_ wedding but half the guests were politicians her father needed to 'connect' with, and the other half were business friends of the Greens. Just because Jack Geller was a Senator and Leonard Green was one of the richest men in America didn't mean they had to invite the paparazzi to _everything. _Why couldn't this be Ross and Rachel's day? But no, it was Ross-The-Senator's-Son and Rachel-Old-Money performing for the newspapers. As usual.

Monica sighed and slumped down at the bar, waving the bartender over. She'd never been a fan of her parent's lifestyle, and knew she disappointed them by not acting like a proper 'politician's daughter'. Her mother had been devastated when she chose a culinary course over Finishing school in Europe, and asked every time they met if she'd 'finally' found someone suitable. And today was worse than usual. Now that Ross was married, her mother could target her single, unmarried and totally pathetic daughter even more. Apparently she had a guy set up for her tonight: some her dad needed to win over for a new bill. Why did her families politics have to control her love life? Seriously?

She ordered a scotch on the rocks and stared at the contents moodily, swashing it inside the glass. It wasn't that Monica didn't _want_ to get married. Her biggest dream was to find someone, fall in love and raise a family together...but she didn't want a life like _this. _Parties for senators and business men, and showing off to the press and talking politics over dinner. She wanted something normal; someone she could laugh with and smile at over the dinner table and watch movies with, She wanted love to be real, not a political business deal.

_Whatever Monica. _She told herself. _That's never going to happen. The only guys interested want you for your dad's position or mom's money. Give it up and move on._

With that cheery thought, she downed her drink in a gulp.

**X-X**

Chandler Bing surveyed the crowd wearily, the beginnings of a headache throbbing at his temples.

Slimy social climbers and rich bitches forcing awkward conversation. His favourite way to spend the weekend.

_God, smite me now._

Was this really his life? Why was he even in this job? What was he even doing here?

_Don't go there. _Chandler warned himself quickly, feeling his stomach sink familiarly. _Don't follow that train of thought. You know why you're here._

He glanced at his boss. He was hunched in a shady corner of the wedding, barking orders into his phone. Snorting, Chandler turned away and headed for the bar. The best way to forget about your crappy life is alcohol right?

As he ordered a beer, he noticed a woman perched a few seats away, staring sadly around the room.

He recognised her as the Maid of Honour, the groom's sister and bride's best friend if he remembered right. Something Geller; Mary? Melanie? She was beautiful with pale, freckled skin and the dark Geller hair. Her crimson bridesmaids dress clung to every curve of her slender body and the neckline settled just over her delicate collarbone. Most importantly she looked as miserable as he felt.

Chandler swallowed nervously, wondering if he should talk to her. He'd been rejected by too many attractive women (hell unattractive women) to confidently approach strangers. His pick up lines usually turned into stuttering disasters. And with someone as beautiful as her...no way. Not even worth trying, but maybe this time...he inched nervously towards her.

She put down her glass and stood up, not noticing him, and Chandler shrunk back.

_Could she__** be**__ more out of my league? _

However, as he turned away, a waiter with a tray of champagne glasses walked past. The guy glanced at the Geller woman, obviously distracted by her cleavage. Staring at her breasts and not his feet, he slipped on a puddle, stumbling and lurching forward. The tray slipping from his grasp, champagne glasses wobbling precariously.

Chandler didn't think. He leapt out of his seat and shoved (Megan?) Geller out of the way. The waiter collided with him instead. Champagne splattered over him, the tray crashing down and glasses smashing to the floor.

_Ok. That went well. _

Silence fell and Chandler didn't want to look around.

_Oh, good job Bing. _

"Sir, I'm so sorry, please forgive me, I –" The waiters scared voice interrupted him, and Chandler forced himself to look up.

"Sorry," The guy babbled, dabbing at his shirt. "I wasn't paying attention and it slipped – my employer will be so angry –"

Chandler glanced furtively around. The bar was at the back of the hall, so only a few guests at the end tables were glaring at him. Thankfully, the music and dancing had drowned out the commotion.

"Don't worry about it." Chandler told the terrified waiter quickly. "Mistakes happen." He picked up the tray and passed it back. "If you clear the mess up fast no one will notice."

"You – you won't tell anyone?"

"No."

The waiter gazed at him gratefully. "Thank you sir." He hurried away.

Chandler rolled his shoulders uncomfortably, the damp shirt sticking to his skin.

_If Doug hears I've caused trouble I'll be dead meat. Even if it __**was**__ to save a damsel in distress...Wherever that woman's gone. _

As if hearing his thoughts, a gentle hand touched his shoulder and Chandler spun around nervously, seeing the smiling face of the pretty Maid of Honour.

"Thanks for that." She smiled at him.

"Um, uh...what?"

_Full sentences Chandler! Speak in full sentences!_

She frowned. "You pushed me out of the way? Without you_ I'd_ be the one covered in...this." She gestured to his dripping shirt.

"It was no biggie." Chandler shrugged awkwardly.

"It would have been to my mother." She muttered, scowling but her face brightened quickly. "I can get you a clean shirt though."

"Uh, you don't have to."

"It's the least I can do. Come on."

Feeling dazed, Chandler let her lead him out of the hall, along an elaborate corridor and through a white, wooden door at the end. He walked into the room and stumbled to a stop, mouth falling open.

"Whoa"

The room was filled with more gaudily wrapped gifts than he'd seen since his parent's 'divorce shower'. There was a small square of space just inside the room where he and Molly? were standing, and narrow path cutting through to another door on their left. Apart from that the floor was covered completely in presents of all sizes stacked almost to the ceiling, most of them decorated with shiny wrapping paper and ribbons that probably destroyed half the Amazon.

"Um, whoa. Did Santa Claus relocate or something?"

Surprisingly, the woman grinned at his lame joke. "They're all Ross and Rachel's wedding present. Welcome to the advantage of inviting too many rich guests."

"I'll say. So what, someone gave your brother a stack of new shirts and you want me to help myself?"

"Are you always this sarcastic?"

"Most of the time. It's how I interact with other life forms." Chandler admitted.

The woman laughed again, keenly scanning the room for something. "Figures. And no I'm not going to steal my brother's presents. Earlier I'm sure I put some shirts..."

Her voice grew muffled as she crouched down and crawled between two coffee machine shaped parcels. Unfortunately this meant her butt, clad in the tight, red dress, was sticking in the air. Chandler desperately resisted looking.

"Please don't get stuck under there." He called, flushing and forcing himself to close his eyes. "It would be a really embarrassing way to die!"

The woman snorted, her back still directed towards him. "Yeah, because my biggest fear about dying is how embarrassing it's going to be."

"Well, that's _my_ biggest fear." He muttered, keeping his eyes shut.

"What? Why?"

"Because, and believe me on this, my death will be an embarrassing event. People will film it and post in You tube and laugh and I'll become a post-mortem internet star. "

"And you're sure of this because...?"

"Because my life is embarrassing and the universe loves symmetry. Just wait, I'll accidentally shoot myself playing paintball...or get taken hostage and insult the captors hairstyle so they'll kill me...or - or get run over by a pensioner going 3 miles an hour...or – or..."

"You know you can open your eyes now."

His eyes snapped open. The woman had come out of the present mound and was standing in front of him, dangling a crumpled bag from her hand and grinning. Her amused expression said she knew _exactly _why he'd closed his eyes. Chandler groaned.

"How long have you been standing there?"

"From 'my life is embarrassing," she quoted, grinning more widely. "I wanted to see how long you could keep going."

"Oh god," He flushed again. "See what I mean about the universe loving symmetry?"

"Your life is indeed tragic," She teased but her eyes softened. "I think it was sweet. Gentlemanly."

"There's a label I've never had before."

"Anyway, here are some of Ross's spare clothes." She said, switching to a business like tone and gesturing to her bag. "I made sure I brought some in case something went wrong. Which considering how clumsy my brother is wouldn't have been surprising. The shirt might be a little big, but should do at a pinch."

She thrust the bag at him but Chandler hesitated. "Are you sure? I can't just wander off wearing the groom's clothes!"

"Please. He's so busy staring at Rachel he wouldn't notice if he was naked."

"Well there's an image I never wanted."

"Just take them, the bathrooms through that door on the right."

"Ok, ok." Chandler caved, taking the bag. "Are you always this organized?"

"Well someone has to be." She looked sheepish.

"Right." He held out his spare hand, feeling idiotically nervous. "I'm Chandler Bing by the way."

"Monica Geller." She shook it, her hand was rougher than he'd have expected from a senator's daughter.

"Nice to meet you. I'll, um, go and get changed."

"Good plan."

**X-X**

Chandler dressed quickly, buttoning his new shirt and shoving the damp one in a spare bag included within the first bag. (She gave a whole new definition to 'organized').

Monica. That was her name: Monica. And she was _nice _as well as gob-smackingly beautiful_, _giving him her brother's shirt and laughing at his jokes.

_Don't get your hopes up Bing. _Chandler told himself sternly. _She'll have left when you walk out of here._

There was no way such an amazing woman would stick around with_ him_, even for one night. She should be back at the wedding reception dancing with senators or millionaires or something, not helping out an idiot who could barely resist staring at a woman's bum. God Joey and Phoebe would be laughing right now.

Keeping these thoughts in mind, he came out of the bathroom and edged his way through the gorge between the present piles. To his surprise Monica was waiting patiently for him, sitting with her back against the closed door.

Even more surprisingly, her eyes lit up when she saw him.

"Heya."

"Um, hi."

She stood her gracefully, her dress swirling about her. He swallowed dryly.

"So, um..." He stared around the room, desperate for something to say, make her stick around. His gaze fell on a object in the corner, which unlike everything else in the room, was unwrapped.

"Is that a _foosball table_?"

"Wh – oh yeah." Monica strolled over and twirled a row of plastic men absently. "It's my gift to Ross and Rachel. They're not meant to have opened it yet, but this morning Ross was so hyper I unwrapped it and let him play a game. He lost obviously but at least he calmed down." She smiled at Chandler impishly. "Of course now he's claiming I bought it for myself and not him. He's such a sore loser."

A foosball table for a wedding present? Chandler wanted to propose on the spot. (Commitment phobia and his crappy job notwithstand).

"So you normally beat your brother?" He said instead.

"Yeah, but he's a wuss."

He smirked, recognising the challenge in her blue eyes.

"Want some real competition?"

**X-X**

"And SCORE!" Monica yelled half an hour later. "Take that Bing!"

"Argh." Chandler threw his hands up. "But I was so close!"

"So close doesn't cut it." Monica teased victoriously. "40 – 2 to Monica!"

"I surrender." Chandler said. "You're like Joey when he sees a sandwich."

"Whose Joey?" Monica asked, symmetrically repositioning the players.

"My roommate."

Monica looked curious, but she glanced at the clock hanging above the door and gasped.

"Shoot, I need to get back. If my mother finds out I've been hiding for this long she'll kill me."

Chandler looked at the clock as well, also feeling worried.

_Half an hour? Doug better still be on the phone or he really will kill me. _

Then he looked at Monica, flushing from the game and her hair falling out her neat bun.

"Do I look alright?" She whispered nervously, sweeping loose hairs back behind her ears.

"You look perfect." He said honestly.

She blushed and his stomach squirmed pleasurably, no matter what Doug did to him this was _so_ worth it.

They left quickly and crept back down the passage to the main reception hall. They opened the double doors a crack and peeked inside.

Doug was still pacing in the corner, jabbering on is phone and Chandler sighed in relief. Beside him, Monica did the same.

"I don't think my mom's noticed I'm gone, so I'm free for a while longer. Do you, uh, do you want to dance?" She suddenly looked nervous.

_Did – did – she just...oh god, what do I do? What do I say? THINK, Chandler, THINK. _

He brain froze, jammed with memories of dancing humiliations.

_Don't let her see that._

"Um, um, well..."

"You don't have to," she said quickly, going red. "You probably have heaps of other people you want to see, I just thought..."

"Oh god Monica, it's not that I don't _want _to," Chandler blurted, flabbergasted she thought he'd rather spend time with anyone apart from her. "It's just...I can't dance. I'm like C-3-P0 on the dance floor. You don't want to be seen with me."

He shuffled his feet, risking a look at her. Monica was staring at him thoughtfully, creasing her smooth forehead.

"Alright. What if we danced out here?" She gestured to the empty passageway. "We can keep the doors closed but the music's loud enough to hear."

A grin broke across his face, feeling amazed she'd go to that effort for him. "Ok! If you want to risk it. Just don't be surprised if you never want to see me again."

"Oh I highly doubt _that._"

They closed the doors and positioned themselves in the middle of corridor. Chandler gripped Monica's waist with one hand, and laced her fingers with his other one. Her spare hand rested on his shoulder and he tried not to tremble at the contact.

After a few false starts and some stumbling they found a rhythm, and it wasn't as bad as Chandler expected. (Though that was probably because of the woman he was dancing with, rather than his improved skills).

"So is Joey your only roommate?" She asked, continuing their previous conversation.

"Yeah, though Phoebe comes over so much she might as well pay rent."

"Phoebe?"

"Phoebe Buffay. Joey met her in a dance class. He hit on her, got rejected and we've all been best friends ever since."

"Phoebe Buffay..." Monica mused. "Why do I recognise that name?"

"Senator Buffay?" Chandler offered. "Her dad served in office ages ago when she was a kid. He died suddenly mid-term and instantly became one of the 'best Senators of the age'. Pheebs still gets invited to political events sometimes, maybe you've met her?"

Monica's eyes lit up. "Tall blonde woman? Hair in plaits? Spent the whole night talking about my cloudy aura?"

"Sounds like Phoebe. She's quite um, special."

"I _love _her." Monica gushed. "She made those dinners bearable but I haven't seen her for a while."

"Yeah, this isn't really her scene."

"Is it anyone's?" She asked wryly. "I only come when my parents force me...so, um, are you and Phoebe like dating?" She inquired casually.

"God no. She's just a friend. I'm sure there's something going on between her and Joey though. But um, I'm uh not seeing anyone."

Monica smiled at him. "Me neither."

She said it simply, like it was just a fact in the conversation, but he flushed anyway.

They continued to dance, Monica smiling quietly and Chandler suppressed the hope that the smile had _anything _to do with him being single.

Suddenly the music changed, switching to a slower, quieter tune. Monica drew closer to him, wrapping her hand around his neck and leaned her head on his chest. Nervously, Chandler rested his cheek on her hair, his hands trailing up to her back. He exhaled slowly.

Things like this didn't happen to him. Funny, kind, beautiful women didn't willingly spend their nights playing foosball and dancing with HIM.

_If I die now, I'll be eternally happy. _

"So," he murmured into her hair, "What do you do? Are you following your mother's footsteps and becoming a Senators wife?"

"God no." Monica whispered back. "I try to stay out of that life. Normally I'm a chef."

Ah, that explained the rough hands.

"Do you enjoy it?"

"I love it What do you do?"

Chandler winced at the thought of his 'career'. "I'm uh, um just a Senator's aide. Well 'Aide' is putting it generously. I'm the under assistant of Junior PA of the secretary of the Senators aide. Or 'whipping boy' if you prefer."

"Wow, uh sounds like fun."

"Oh it's a hoot." Chandler quipped, trying to sound upbeat. "Actually, it's a fluke that I'm here tonight, normally I'm not important enough to be let out. But almost everyone else was sick or away or busy with others things."

"Well." Monica said gently, pulling back to look him straight in the eye. "_I'm_ glad you're here."

He couldn't stop from smiling dopily at her, ducking his eyes shyly. "Thanks."

Thankfully she rested her in the crook of his neck again, so she missed his cheeks turning red.

"So what Senator are you under-under-under aide for? There are at least three of them at this wedding."

"Well, uh..." Chandler began reluctantly.

"Actually no." She interrupted him quickly. "Don't tell me. I don't want to talk politics or connect you with my parents in any way. I'm happy just...here."

"Sounds good to me." He said, struggling to hide his intense relief.

They continued dancing quietly. Swaying together in the empty hallway, the lilting music seeping under the door. Chandler closed his eyes and rested his check against her soft hair, sighing contently.

Eventually the song finished and Monica gently disengaged herself from their embrace, looking embarrassed, her red cheeks flushing adorably. Chandler smiled at her, and seemingly against herself, she smiled back.

They stared at each other for a moment, before she looked reluctantly at the door.

"We should get back."

"R-Right. Yeah, ok."

He blinked dazedly, stumbling after her through the doors and into the hall. He paused, when he reached the bar where they'd met.

"Hey, I'm thirsty after all that dancing. Do you want to get a drink?"

"That would be great." Monica smiled shyly. "I just have to check on Ross and Rachel, join you in a minute?"

"Sounds good. What do you want?"

"Scotch on the rocks with a twist?"

"Coming right up."

He watched her dart away, a flash of scarlet amidst the dancers, then collapsed onto a bar stool.

She was amazing...and...and kind and smart and funny and friendly. And scarily competitive. And fierce. And apparently a world class foosball player.

He was _so _screwed.

**X-X**

Monica discovered Ross and Rachel making out behind one of the over-dressed pillars, and decided not to feel guilty about disappearing. It was great not to be the third wheel for once.

She hadn't expected to enjoy the wedding much, and the happiness she feeling now was all down to Chandler. Nice, smart, funny Chandler. Adorably cute Chandler with his blue eyes and rumpled suit and hair mussed up from running his fingers through it. Now he'd relaxed, she was sure he was the sweetest man she'd met in a _long _time. He didn't show off like other men, in fact he seemed nervous and self-deprecating. But they'd clicked in a way Monica hadn't felt before. With that happy thought, she left Ross and Rachel alone and headed back to the bar, smiling broadly.

"_Monica darling!" _Her mother's voice wiped her smile away instantly. "_Where on earth have you been?"_

Monica froze, as her parents pushed through the crowd in front of her, cutting off her route to the bar and Chandler. Behind them followed a well-built man with groomed hair and a spotless tux.

"Monica," Her father said, looking at her sternly. "This is Senator Doug. He's been waiting to meet you all night."

Monica forced a smile and extended her hand. "It's a pleasure to meet you Senator."

"The pleasure is all mine Miss Geller. Your parents were exaggerating when they spoke of your beauty." He scanned the length of her, licking his lips.

Monica smiled thinly and withdrew her hand. "That's funny. They never say anything that nice to my face."

"Ah, such a sense of humour has our Monica." Judy said, laughing agitatedly and jabbing her in the ribs. "I knew you two would hit it off."

She narrowed her eyes at Monica, flickering her gaze meaningfully back to Doug. Monica felt ice slipping down her spine.

Oh god, this was _him. _The Senator her father had been working for weeks to gain support for a new bill. And now her parents wanted her to flirt with him to get his allegiance.

Well, no waywas she demeaning herself like this! _She _had standards! (And a sweet, funny man waiting for her at the bar).

"Well," she said firmly, sidestepping the trio. "It's been lovely meeting your Senator. But I must go and make the rounds."

"Now?" Senator Doug asked, "I was hoping to catch you for a dance."

"No, I really can't –"

"Oh that's a _wonderful_ idea!" Judy exclaimed. "Monica loves dancing!"

She all but pushed her daughter into Doug's arm, overriding Monica's protests.

"Enjoy yourselves!"

And so Monica found herself being dragged onto the dance floor, trapped in the arms of Senator Doug. Inwardly she groaned.

_Great, just great._

**X-X**

After twenty minutes Chandler was getting antsy. _Where is she? Did she get caught up with someone? Are Ross and Rachel ok?_

He decided to look for her, holding a glass in each hand and edging his way through the crowd. Maybe she was busy with her Mom: Senator Geller's wife seemed kind of demanding.

He reached the dance floor, glanced at the dancers and jerked to a stop, feeling like he'd been punched in the gut.

Monica.

Monica dancing with Doug. Monica looping her arms around his neck, smiling at something he said. Monica with his _boss. _

Chandler swallowed, the emptiness in his stomach turning to a dull ache.

God he was an idiot. What guy dances _once _with a woman and thinks it means something? He was lucky Monica had noticed him at all, especially with so many other richer, better-looking, more successful guys around. Guys like Doug. Fricking Senators for crying out loud!

_Get over yourself Bing, you were right to start with, she's __**way **__out of your league._

**X-X**

After three songs, Monica was ready to scream. The Senator ("_Please call me Doug darling") _was turning out to be the most arrogant, revolting, boring conversationalist she'd ever met. As a Senator's daughter, that was saying a lot.

He'd told her about his business ventures and his company and his politics and his upcoming elections and a bunch of things she didn't care about. Would it hurt to talk about someone _other_ than himself?

Monica wondered desperately where Chandler was now. Had he got bored and left? Or would he come and rescue her? She clung to that hope, as Doug launched into another story about his incompetent aide.

"I really have to go." Monica tried, pulling away from him again.

Doug only gripped her waist tighter, pulling her back. "Do you have to darling? I was hoping – " Suddenly his face changed, glaring at something over her shoulder. "Is that _Bing? _Where has he been all night? Hey Bing! Get over here!" He raised his voice.

Monica stumbled over his feet and stopped dancing. Slowly, she turned around to see who he was yelling at.

_Bing? Please don't say he means..._

He did. _Oh god. Oh god, oh god, oh god. _

Chandler approached slowly, his expression carefully blank as he looked at the two of them. With a pang, Monica realized he was still holding two glasses.

"You wanted me Sir?" He asked quietly, stopping in front of Doug.

"God dammit I wanted you." Doug said irritably. "Where have you been for the last hour?"

"Sorry Sir," Chandler said, staring at the floor. "I thought you were still on the phone."

"I asked what you were doing. Not what _I _was doing you idiot. Are you utterly incapable?"

At this, Monica had to intervene. She opened her mouth to explain, take the blame for his absence when she caught Chandler's eye. Ever so subtly he shook his head, obviously warning her not to saying anything about their meeting. She frowned in response and panic flickered across his face. He shook his head more adamantly and Monica closed her mouth, feeling annoyed.

What had happened to Chandler? Gone was the relaxed, laughing man she'd danced with in the foyer. This man was quiet and cowed, taking Doug's insults on him. He looked intimidated and timid, brow-beaten by his boss.

She stared at his bowed head. _Chandler?_

"Anyway." Doug finally finished his strip down of Chandler. "At least you got me a drink."

He plucked Chandler's drink from his hand and drank deeply, then took Monica's scotch and handed it to her.

"There we go darling."

Monica sipped it awkwardly, trying to edge away but keeping her eyes on Chandler. Maybe she could escape now, and explain and...

Her escape was interrupted by a phone ringing.

"Shoot." Doug muttered, pulling it out of his pocket. He spoke tersely into the mobile. "Yeah, it's me again. Can you hold for a moment?"

He turned to Monica apologetically. "I'm so sorry I have to cut this short Miss Geller. I was looking forward to getting to know you better."

_I wasn't._

"It's fine." Monica said convincingly. "Nice meeting you."

He grabbed her hand and held on. "It's not fine at all. We were getting on so well."

_Um, what?_

"Can't I take you out to dinner sometime?"

"I don't think that's a good idea." She said firmly, very aware of Chandler standing behind him. "I'm rather busy at the moment."

"No she's not." Her mother's voice interrupted and Monica jerked around.

Judy Geller stepped up beside her and shot Doug a dazzling smile. "She's not busy at all, ignore her Doug, she'd love to have dinner with you."

Doug grinned, squeezing her hand eagerly. "Great! Does Thursday night work for you?"

"Well no, you see –"

"Yes!" Her mother said happily. "That would be perfect."

"Marvellous. I'll pick you up at 7. See you then Monica. Come on Bing." Doug strode away, already barking orders into his phone.

Chandler stepped forward and nodded stiffly to her,

"Goodnight...Miss Geller." She saw a flash of pain in his eyes at the title, before his gaze dropped again. "Nice meeting you."

He walked away before she could say anything. Monica staring numbly after him.

"I'm only doing what's best you know." Her mother said sternly. "Your father needs all the help he can get from Senator Doug. And _you _dear, need all the help you can get with finding men."

She sniffed and stalked off, Monica was too defeated to even respond. She closed her eyes, disappointment seeping through her every pore.

What the hell was she going to do now?

**X-X**

**A/N: And there's chapter 1. Please review, like I said I've been working on this story for a while and it's been a few years since I've attempted a full-length fic. So any responses would mean a lot!**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: And the second chapter is finally here! Sorry about the long wait, I made quite a few changes to this so it's taken a while. I was overwhelmed with the response to the first chapter; I've never had that many reviews for one update! So please give this chapter just as much feedback, I would verily appreciate it This carries off from the end of the wedding and we meet Joey and Phoebe.**

**X-X**

Chandler was almost halfway home when he remembered 'home' wasn't _his _home anymore. He groaned, banging his head against the window, immediately triggering a throbbing headache.

_How do I get lost going to my __**own **__apartment? Seriously, do other people make these mistakes? Or is it just a unique Chandlerism I'm gifted with?_

By the time he'd dug out his new address and redirected the confused cab driver, his wallet was twice as light as it should have been and his head was pounding even more.

_Yep. This is something that could __**only **__happen to me. _

Sluggishly, he climbed the stairs to his new apartment and shoved at the worn out door, halting abruptly when it swung open.

_Oh god. _

Boxes, bubbles wrap and cardboard littered the apartment floor, DVD's were scattered haphazardly in the corner, clothes laid draped over the couch and 'Rosita' – Joey's barcalounger – was plonked in the middle of the room.

Recovering from the sight, he dragged his gaze over to the kitchen counter to find his two friends gorging on a pile of Chinese food.

"Heb Chander!" Phoebe waved, not glancing up. "How wad der wedding?"

Her words were muffled by the chopstick clenched between her teeth, which she was determinedly poking at Joey. Joey jabbed back with his own stick, successfully knocking Phoebe's out of her mouth.

"HA! Take that woman!" He yelled, spitting his own stick out and pumping his fist. "Victory!" Easily, he swung around on the stool to face Chandler. "Hey man, how was your day?"

"Fantastic." Chandler said, still eyeing the messy room. "How's the unpacking going? Or should I say, the chopstick wars?"

"Great! This is our ninth round! Do you wanna play? You can use my stick, I'll wipe the slobber off!"

"Yeah. I guess you'll wipe it off with the paper towels and groceries you were buying today?"

Joey grimaced, his bright, boyish expression suddenly clouding over. "Ah...about that..."

"I'll go shopping after work tomorrow."

"Thanks man! Do you want some food?"

"Nah." Chandler shook his head quietly. "I'm just going to...head to bed. Early start in the morning..._Please _tell me you'll finish unpacking tomorrow."

"Absolutely man. You can count on me...This time."

"And me!" Phoebe piped up. "I'll help...again."

"That reassures me." Chandler said dryly. "Good night."

"Night!"

Staggering into his bedroom, he plopped face first onto his bed, massaging his temples.

_We're lucky to find this place._ He reminded himself, trying to stay positive. _It's a great apartment. _

After he and Joey's last landlord had suddenly evicted them, apparently wanting to sell the apartment on to some new buyers, they'd had a mad, stressed rush finding another place in their price range. This new apartment was perfect: It was closer to work, closer to Phoebe, they'd discovered a great coffee place across the street...Ok, there was a known crack den below them but that wasn't a deal breaker...

Chandler groaned and rolled onto his back: Trite musings about his new apartment couldn't distract him from what he was _really _miserable about.

Monica. Doug.

Monica _and _Doug. The two of them together, dancing, only minutes after he'd summoned the courage to ask if she'd like to go out sometime...Oh god.

He punched his pillow, drowning out echoes of her soft laughter. It figured the rare woman he could actually talk to would immediately get snatched up by his boss. The universe was _clearly _a fan of irony. Did he _look _like some cosmic plaything, screaming 'pick me!' 'screw up _my_ life!' Really?

If things were different he'd ask Monica out anyway and to hell with Doug, but given their 'situation' and Doug's deal...Chandler punched the pillow again, his gut twisting bitterly. There was nothing he could do.

Then again, would fighting make much difference? Why would Monica be interested in him, when she could have a man like Doug? A Senator, rich, influential, confident...Competing would just humiliate Chandler more.

Somehow that thought didn't make him feel better.

X-X

"Let me get this right," Rachel's voice travelled through the phone. "You met this amazing guy, had an 'electrifying' connection...and agreed to date his _boss_?"

"_Agreed?_" Monica spat. "I didn't _agree! _My _mother _forced me into it. She flat out told him I could go! Just because my dad needs his support!"

"Well, Ross says Doug is really important for instigating this new bill. Doug is the other Senator of New York State, so they need his agreement."

"Fine! Buy him some wine; take him to our summer house, offer a bribe! Don't drag _me_ into it!"

"Look." Rachel said placating. "Go on this date. Make your parent's happy. And after that, you never have to see him again."

"I guess." Monica sighed, dropping dejectedly onto her bed. "Chandler was just so sweet you know? We had _so _much fun and now it's ruined. And I'm going on a date with his boss, so he thinks I don't like _him_."

"Maybe you could explain things to Doug."

"Oh yeah_, that_ would go down great: 'Hey Senator, thanks for the date, here's my number. Oh no, it's not for you! It's for the guy who brings you coffee! Would do you mean that's not normal dating protocol?'"

"You paint quite a picture Mon."

"Seriously, can you imagine any of the snotty guys our parents set us up with, being ok with that?"

"Yeah, ok. Barry definitely didn't take rejection well."

"Exactly. Plus, Chandler wouldn't even tell Doug we'd met. He freaked out when I mentioned it, what's up with that?"

"I don't know. Maybe he was intimidated about hanging out with a politician's daughter when he was just an aide." Rachel suggested.

"Maybe."

"But I have to go Mon. Ross wants to see some boring archaeology site. Ugh, this honeymoon is like some school trip. Why did I marry him again?"

"Uh uh, I'm staying out of you and my brother's dramas. See you Rach."

"Bye."

Monica disconnected with a click and flopped back on the bed, clutching the phone to her chest.

Just calm down.She told herself. This shouldn't be such a big deal. You only met this guy once. Get over it.

** X-X**

The restaurant was unusually busy for a Monday, orders flooding into the kitchen, keeping Monica busy. She welcomed the distraction, snapping orders at the waiters and stirring every pot vehemently. By the end of the day both her arms and throat were aching.

Before getting home, she ducked inside her favourite coffee house: 'Washington Perk' was at the bottom of her apartment block and open almost all hours.

"Hey Gunther." She said wearily, reaching the counter.

"Hi Monica. The usual?"

"Yes please."

Weirdly enough Gunther had only recently become her caffeine supplier. Before opening a coffee house, he'd been Jack Geller's Head of Security and on several occasions, Monica's personal body guard. He'd quit while she was at culinary school, apparently searching for a 'simpler life' and Monica helped him find the premises that became Washington Perk.

They kept their identities of former body guard and (sadly, current) Senator's daughter quiet though. She wanted to avoid the paparazzi and he was almost as secretive about his career as his natural hair colour. (Apparently it hadn't always been white-blonde. Who knew?)

Monica settled down at the window seat, idly watching the other customers chattering and suddenly glimpsed a figure heading into the men's room. She could only see him from the back... Pretty non-descript, average height, messy brown hair, dressed in slacks. But still...maybe...

The guy vanished into the toilets and she shook herself up irritably, scowling. God, what was she doing? Suddenly every brown haired guy could be him?

Chastising herself for her stupidity, Monica finished and left quickly, refusing the look back.

**X-X**

On Tuesday morning Chandler overslept, Phoebe and Joey's Disney movie marathon ("because we never watched them in our childhood!") having kept him up half the night.

He dashed down the stairs, shrugging his jacket over one arm and hanging onto his briefcase with the other. No time for breakfast but there was a coffeehouse opposite the apartment block. He hurried inside, breathlessly ordering a coffee to go from the peroxide haired manager (seriously, blonde? He looked even wimpier than Chandler).

As he drummed his fingers impatiently on the counter, he caught sight of a slender, dark-haired woman sitting on a nearby couch, facing away from him. For a second, his breath caught. No way, it couldn't be...

"Here you go." The waiter interrupted his thought. "One coffee to go."

He tore his gaze away from the woman and smiled distractedly. "Thanks."

**X-X**

Unusually for Monica, she was still getting ready when Doug's chauffeur buzzed for her. She'd procrastinated for hours, colour coding every flannel she owned, before finally throwing on a random dress and running a brush through her dark hair. Glancing in the mirror at her unmade up face, she shrugged and headed for the door.

She reached the limo at the bottom of her apartment block and slid in with an experienced manoeuvre.

"Ah, Monica." Doug smiled, as she settled onto the leather seat. "You look stunning."

"Thank you Senator."

"Now before we start I want to apologize for something." He said, as the limo drew away. "My work is currently rather intense and I need to be available. So I've brought one of my staff along."

Monica's stomach lurched. "Y- your, your staff?"

"My assistant's secretary's aide. He's a long way down the food chain and not particularly capable But he can at least field my calls...Hopefully. In fact, he was the incompetent drone you met at the wedding. Chandler Bing."

He reached over Monica, pressing a small button on the arm of her seat, and the opaque barrier separating them and the driver inched slowly down, leaving a narrow window between the two compartments.

"Bing!" He said smoothly. "Please greet our guest."

Monica swallowed and looked over: Sitting on the other side of the barrier and blinking uncomfortably – was Chandler.

"G – Good evening Miss Geller." He said, avoiding her gaze.

"Good evening." Monica echoed weakly, suddenly wishing she'd put make up on after all.

Before they could say more, Doug pressed the button again and the barrier retracted, separating them again. Monica stared down at her lap.

"I promise he won't affect our date," Doug continued. "It's just in case something urgent comes up. I'm sure you understand."

Monica forced herself to smile at him. "Of course."

**X-X**

If Phoebe's karma crap was true then Chandler must have done something _unbelievably _shitty in his past life to deserve this.

He sat alone in the corner booth, moodily pushing his over-priced meal around his plate and watching Monica and Doug. Doug talked a lot, Monica nodding along and giggling uproariously at his jokes. Doug leaned across the table to pour her some wine, gently brushing her arm.

Chandler's stomach clenched. He remembered Monica's face pressing into his shoulder, her soft hair tickling his chin, their hands entwined...

Doug squeezed her shoulder. Chandler looked away, trembling.

This wasn't karma. This was hell.

_Well get used to it. _He reminded himself bitterly. _Because they'll do this again. They'll go on dates and appear to the public and you'll have to watch. And she'll visit the office and you'll buzz her in while she pretends she never met you. Then you'll write all Doug's dates with her in the planner and remind him to see her and you can never leave your job because – _

He cut off his rambling before the imagery could go any further. He was overreacting: This was only their first date and Doug rarely had time for girlfriends. Maybe Monica would say goodbye tonight and never be seen again.

_Yeah, because your life is just that kind. _

For the thousandth time that evening, he pulled out Doug's phone and checked it for messages. So far there'd been zero calls, why the hell was he even here?

_Come on. _He begged, glaring fiercely at the mobile. _Let the President call. Or even the Vice-President. I'm not fussy!_

Then, as if the universe finally realized it owed him, the cell phone rung. He grabbed at it, stuttering.

"Good evening. You've reached Senator Doug's phone."

_**X-X**_

_Burning alive. _Monica mused._ Trapped in Ross' closet. 10__th__ Grade Math Class. _

She smiled vaguely at another of Doug's 'jokes' and continued listing places she'd rather be than this restaurant.

_Suffocating. Bottom of the ocean. Lincoln High Toilets. _

Doug launched into how he became New York State's younger Senator EVER and she reached for her fork, considering ramming it into his thigh. As a Senator's daughter, she'd met a lot of arrogant men but he was quickly moving to the top of the list. He hadn't asked a single question about her all night.

"Sir?" Monica jumped as Chandler approached their table.

"What is it Bing?" Doug snapped, not looking at him.

"Um, there's an urgent call for you."

Doug scowled. "Sorry about this." He said to her, jerking his head at Chandler, as if the interruption was _his_ fault. "I'll just be a minute."

He snatched the phone from Chandler's grasp and strode off, leaving the two of them alone. Chandler hovered opposite her, fiddling with the hem of his shirt. Monica stared at her plate, wondering if she should say something. Maybe explain that this so-called 'date' wasn't her idea? Apologize for ditching him at the wedding? Ask him how he was?

"Chandler..."

"God dammit!" Doug returned to their table. "So sorry, Monica we're going to have to cut this short."

"What's happened?"

"Oh, nothing serious. Maintenance workers going on strike, demanding more pay and so on. It's ridiculous but we need to do some damage control. I have to go."

"Oh _no. _And so soon?"

"Yeah, it's a pain in the ass." Doug replied, missing her sarcasm. "But I won't spoil your evening as well. Stay here; finish your meal, order dessert. Bing will stay with you...The first and last time he has dinner with a pretty woman." Doug chuckled at the joke and Chandler laughed brittley. Monica managed a thin smile.

"I have to take the limo though." He continued. "I can order another one if you want. I have connections with all the limo companies."

"Oh, I can just take a cab. It's no problem."

"Great." He grabbed his jacket. "And we must do this again. Say, Wednesday next week?"

"Oh, I can't –"

"Great, I'll pick you up at 7. See you then." He marched away, pushing past a waitress.

"But I'm busy!" Monica called. "I can't make it. I'm –" Doug slammed the restaurant door behind him. She groaned and buried her head in her hands.

_Jerkass._

She heard Chandler asking the waiter to bring his food over, and suddenly smiled. Why was she depressed? She'd got rid of Doug _and_ had another chance to talk to Chandler. Focus on that! She could cancel her date later!

Raising her head from her arms, she looked over at the anxious man still hovering by Doug's chair.

"You can sit down you know." She said, smiling lightly. "Unless you want to stand there all night."

"Well, I've heard it's good for the calf muscles." He quipped. "And seeing as I've missed my last uh, 3027 gym sessions I kinda need the exercise."

Monica laughed."Fair enough. But if you abandon that plan, this seats open."

He shuffled awkwardly into the chair, carefully avoiding eye contact. Monica gazed at him as he picked at his food, shocked at the change in him. At the wedding he'd been relaxed: A wide smile on his face and his eyes crinkling. Now he looked horribly tense, his jaw was clenched and arms moving jerkily. Why did his boss have such an effect on him?

Monica scraped the remains of her food around her plate, wondering how to break the silence. Surprisingly, he spoke first.

"So, uh you and the Senator looked like you were having fun."

"Seriously?" She frowned. "What gave you that idea?"

"You know..." He gestured vaguely with his knife. "The laughing, smiling, constant conversation. You seemed to be enjoying yourself."

She smiled grimly. "I'm a Senator's daughter – I've learnt to fake these things. Honestly he was so boring, I'm surprised I didn't impale him with a fork." She suddenly realized who she was talking to and slapped her hand over her mouth. "Oh my god, Chandler I'm so sorry I shouldn't have said that about your boss! Can you – can you just – wipe that from your memory?"

"No, no it's fine." Chandler laughed, his jaw relaxing a little. "I know the feeling. Only I usually resist stapling his hand to his desk. Um, so you...uh,_ weren't_ having fun?"

Wow, she must be a better actress than she'd realized...or Chandler was oblivious to the social niceties of political circles. Monica knew she shouldn't blab details to him, but somehow his naivety made her forget about what she should and shouldn't do.

"No I wasn't_." _She said firmly. "I didn't even want to come tonight, but my Mom insisted. Dad wants Doug's allegiance in a new bill and figured us dating would help."

"You're kidding."

"I wish." Monica said. "But you get used it. They've done it before...set me up with businessmen, politicians...sometimes to make 'connections' and sometimes because I 'need a man'. " She rolled her eyes. "I'd prefer to die alone than date the guys my Mom throws at me. God, every single one's been rich and boring and unbelievably arrogant. I want to be talked to, not talked at, y'know?"

"Fair enough." Chandler said grinning. "I wouldn't go out with guys like that either...Not that I date guys," he added quickly, flushing. "I'm totally straight and everything, but if I _did _date guys I wouldn't want to date guys like _that. _I wouldn't want to date girls like that either...but I do normally date girls, not guys – I – I mean..."

Monica smirked. "Have you finished digging your hole yet?"

"Digging my grave I think." He groaned, burying his face in his hands. "Can we just pretend I didn't say that?"

"What?" She teased, "That you don't date guys?"

"Haha."

Giggling she returned to her food, the silence much more comfortable than before. Too soon Monica finished her plateful.

"Well," she said dryly, putting down her fork. "That was enough to feed a well-sized squirrel."

"Yeah." Chandler agreed. "Why is it that the more you pay, the less food you get? You're a chef, can you explain it?"

"I specialize in food for _humans. _My restaurant has big enough portions that my customers don't need to run to McDonalds afterwards."

"Unlike this place." Suddenly his eyes lit up. "Hey, I don't know about McDonalds, but I know a great coffee house if you're still hungry. They do the _best _pies and muffins. I mean..." He trailed off. "It's nothing fancy, I just found it across the street from my new apartment. There are no complicated French names and we can stay and order dessert here if you want a proper meal but I thought, maybe –"

Monica gently cut him off. "Coffee sound's amazing."

They paid quickly and ducked into the street. Chandler went to flag down a cab but Monica asked if they could walk instead. When he warned her it would take at least half an hour, she shrugged admitting walking with him beat watching reruns of old sitcoms at home. At that, he smiled far too widely.

The two of them dawdled slowly down the street, heading towards the park.

"So...your Dad's the Senator of New York huh?" Chandler said.

Monica flinched, wondering if he _was_ just pumping her for information. "Yeah, though if you only just realized that, then you really_ are_ as crappy an Aide as Doug said."

"Oh, I'm much crappier than that." Chandler joked, while looking a little hurt. "But I was just wondering if you grew up in New York, or lived in Washington with your Dad?"

Monica bit the inside of her cheek, flushing a little. _He's just being friendly_. She reprimanded herself. _Stop jumping down his throat: This isn't Doug, he isn't using you. _

Or at least she hoped he wasn't. Thanks to growing up with politicians, she could usually read people well and Chandler didn't seem like some grovelling assistant, extracting information for his boss.

_Just be yourself, maybe he's really interested in you, not _'_Jack Geller's Daughter'. Maybe. _

"I grew up in Long Island." She said quickly. "But Dad's career took off in my sophomore year at High School and we all moved to Washington to support him."

"Are you glad you moved?"

Monica frowned as they walked into the clear cut park, glancing around at the pruned flowers beds. "I don't know. Life was a lot simpler in Long Island, there was no paparazzi following 'Jack Geller's daughter', or tonnes of state dinners to go to. We were just like a normal family I guess." She sighed. "But if I hadn't moved to Washington, I wouldn't have the life or job or friends I have now. I wouldn't have Rachel."

"Rachel? She was the one marrying your brother right?"

"Yeah but she was my friend before she was Ross's girlfriend. We've known the Greens forever and when we moved up here I started at her school. Even though she was way prettier and more popular, she still showed me round and looked after me. We were roommates all the way through College and work until she and Ross got engaged." Monica paused, remembering their conversation at the wedding. "What about you? You said your roommate was called Joey right?"

"Yeah." Chandler ducked a low-hanging branch. "But our story isn't very exciting. I'd graduated from NYU, moved here homeless, he advertised for a roommate and ta-da it was meant to be. We've actually just moved into a new apartment together: We've bonded I guess. Though he's pretty much the opposite of me."

"What do you mean?"

"You know: Hot, confident, suave...can actually talk to a girl without stuttering." He rolled his eyes, gesturing comically to himself, and Monica giggled.

"I think you're better than you think you are." She said, instantly wondering if that was too flirty. When Chandler's face lit up in delighted surprise, she didn't regret it. "So you went to NYU, huh? I wanted to go to a culinary school in New York."

"Really?"

"Yeah, but my parents wanted me to go to some fancy finishing school here or George Washington like Ross, so I could be and I quote 'closer to the family'. God forbid a legal adult live in a different city from her parents."

"God forbid. So did they put on an ankle bracelet to stop you leaving?"

"Nope, just months of screaming matches and blackmail." She gritted her teeth, frustration seeping into her tone even at the memory. "In the end, they said I could go to culinary school but it had to be in Washington. I was so exhausted I agreed. I meant to move to New York after I'd graduated, but my dream restaurant here offered me a position and I never got round to moving." She gazed pensively at the carefully placed trees either side of the path. "It's a great place and I'm Head chef now, but I've always wondered what would've happened if I'd had the guts to move to New York." She glanced at him. "Maybe we would have met there instead."

Chandler laughed quietly, looking strangely sad. "Maybe we would have done."

"So," she said switching topics quickly, worried he'd think she was a whiny little rich girl. "NYU? What did you Major in?"

"Uh, English."

"Really? What did you want to do?"

Chandler shifted nervously, as they walked out of the wrought iron gates. "I, uh wanted to go into Advertising."

"Really? How'd you go from _that _to politics?"

"Uh, just random really. I was doing this internship at an advertising agency in New York but it um, didn't work out. Then Doug offered me a position on his staff and I figured I should try it." Chandler explained vaguely.

Monica noticed he was sweating a little and frowned, both at his intense reaction and his situation. "Doug just...offered you a position? Out of nowhere? That's weird. How'd he even know you?"

"He, um, knew my Mom."

"Oh. Is your Mom involved with politics as well?" She asked, her stomach dropping at the idea. Chandler acted like such a normal guy she didn't want him to be just as caught up in politics as everyone else around her.

"Oh god no, nothing like that."

_Yay! "_What does she do then?"

"Uh, nothing interesting." He said quickly, flushing bright red. Monica smirked, his embarrassment igniting her curiosity.

"Oh come on," She wheedled playfully. "It can't be that bad."

"Trust me," Chandler said seriously, his eyes twinkling under the street lights. "It can. You _really_ don't want to know."

"Ah, but now I have to!"

**X-X**

Chandler only had half his mind on the route as the streets transitioned from prominent restaurants and wealthy town houses, to dimmer roads with smaller apartment blocks and cramped shops. Most of his attention was fixed on Monica's determined face; she was too busy guessing his Mom's elusive job to notice the change in scenery. Chandler chuckled to himself, elusively answering a round of 20 questions and dodging her elbow as her gestures got more frustrated.

He was hugely relieved at the turn their conversation had taken. Partly because they'd reverted to playful banter they'd shared at the wedding, but also because Monica was so focused on his Mom that she wasn't asking about the rest of his life. Like why he was working for Doug and how he went from Advertising to Politics.

Eventually he led them down a narrow side street and stopped in front of the small coffee house hung with a brightly painted sign declaring 'Washington Perk'.

"Well." He said. "Here we are." He licked his lips, suddenly dry even in the cool night air. God, why had he suggested this place? She was a Senator's daughter for crying out loud! She'd be used to fancy places like the restaurant Doug had taken her too. Not a cheap coffee house across from his dingy apartment. Was he insane?

Monica stared at cosily lit window, the apartment floors above, and then around the narrow street. Her expression was unreadable.

"Is uh, this ok?" He asked, palms beginning to sweat. "I know, it's not much but –"

She glanced sideways at him. "Chandler, when you and Doug picked me up, did you even_ look_ at where you were?"

"Uh, I kind of fell asleep...What?" He asked defensively at her raised eyebrow. "I was really tired! Why do you care?"

"Because," she said, rolling her eyes. "_My _apartment is right _there._" She pointed to the window three floors above the coffee place. "I come to this place for breakfast, and during my lunch breaks and every evening I'm free. I practically_ live_ here!"

"Oh my god!" Chandler's mouth fell open. "My new apartment is there!" He gestured excitedly to the opposite apartment block. "We're practically neighbours. And god I _did _see you!"

"What?"

"Tuesday morning, I saw a woman who looked like you, and I thought I was imagining things but obviously not. This is crazy!" Despite feeling incredibly stupid, Chandler grinned goofily at her, thrilled at the connection

"I know!" She agreed enthusiastically. "And I saw_ you _on Monday night! I almost called out but I figured it was wishful thinking." She smiled at him, and his pulse jumped pleasurably at the implications of 'wishful thinking'. She'd wanted to see him again? "Wow, just think, if we hadn't met at the wedding we might've met here instead!"

She shook her head amused and Chandler forced a laugh, stomach squirming regretfully, wishing they could have met in simpler circumstances. Just two people in a coffee shop. Maybe then they'd be on a real date, rather than him escorting her for his boss.

Monica linked arms with him, tugging him through the door. "Come on let's go inside."

At the counter they ordered two coffees and a blueberry muffin each, only to be told there was only one muffin left. After launching into a ten minute battle over who deserved it, and Chandler almost licking it, Monica suggested breaking it in half instead. Which was really was a much smarter idea. They shared a pie as well, because those restaurant portions were crazily small.

He watched her scoff down her half of the muffin and she looked at him sheepishly. "Sorry. I kind of like food.

"I can tell."

"I'm not obsessed or anything honestly. I used to be, in high school I was kind of...fat, I ate like all the time. Kids picked on me a lot. I've got it under control now...but uh, yeah..." She rambled on, blushing. "Sorry."

"Don't be. I mean I wasn't fat but I wasn't popular in high school...I got picked on all the time as well."

"Really?"

"Yeah. I wasn't the um, sportiest of guys, and I was awkward and skinny, and made terrible jokes all the time – "

"_Made _terrible jokes? As in past tense?" She teased.

"I'll ignore that comment, as you clearly don't appreciate my sophisticated wit. Sadly neither did the guy in my year; they made shoving my head down the toilet a school sport.

"Really? I thought that only happened in movies."

"I wish. It was ok, as long as they flushed it first."

"Ew..." Monica laughed. "Alright, my case wasn't so bad. Toilet shoving isn't really girl's style. They just didn't invite me to their parties."

"That was meant to be a bad thing?"

**X-X**

"I have eleven categories of towels."

"I have two copies of the Annie soundtrack."

"My favourite possession is my label maker."

"My favourite movie is Miss Congeniality."

Chandler didn't even notice how many hours had passed. He listened to Monica talk about her parents and how they favoured Ross and pushed her to find a 'suitable man', (he quickly pushed Doug's face out of his mind), and her job as Executive Chef. She was open and passionate and funny and so kind he even opened up about his parent's painful divorce and crappy childhood. Now they'd moved onto their most embarrassing secrets.

Joey and Phoebe told him he shouldn't spill details like that on his first date, but he didn't care. Talking to Monica felt natural and he marvelled at how easily she pried information out of him. She didn't judge him for his humiliating stories or steer him away from unsavoury topics or hint he was ruining the date –

_Wait. __**What**__?! _Chandler's stopped himself. _This isn't a __**date! **__The real date ended hours ago when she said goodbye to your __**boss**__, you're just the mediocre fill in! What the hell are you thinking? _

But right now, he didn't want to think. After all, Monica had said that she _didn't _like Doug! The date had been set up by her parents! Maybe he still had a chance...

_Slow down. _He told himself sternly. _Just because she doesn't like Doug, doesn't mean she __**is**__ interested in __**you**__. _ _I mean, god, look at her. How likely is it, that a woman like that would be interested in a loser like you? There are probably tonnes of guys waiting in the wings. And how will Doug react to you moving in on his property?_

His stomach thumped dully as he watched her, her dark rush of hair falling over her shoulder and her blue eyes sparkling with laughter.

_What the hell are you thinking man?_

"Do you want some more coffee?" Monica asked, interrupting him.

"Uh, um, yeah that would be great."

She stood up, gently touching his shoulder as she passed, her hand lingering a second longer than normal and brushing across his neck. Chandler's skin erupted in goose bumps and his fragile confidence strengthened. This _wasn't_ all in his head. For whatever crazy reason she felt something too, probably a minuscule, insignificant something but something nonetheless.

He'd worry about Doug tomorrow. He told himself, shoving the memory of what happened last time he displeased his boss, into the back of his mind.

**X-X**

Was is sad that this 'non-date' was better than any proper date Monica had had in years? Within an hour, she was laughing too hard to even think about Doug. Chandler was just as adorable as she remembered, attentively listening to her moan about her parents and cracking her up with his snarky comments.

Obviously nothing could "_happen_" tonight, but as she had zero intention of ever dating Doug again, she didn't feel guilty about hanging out with Chandler and...seeing where it went.

So she tried to make the night last as long as possible. They stayed at Washington Perk until it closed, the disgruntled Gunther practically pushing them out of the door. Then they'd sat on her steps at the bottom of her apartment block, arguing over whether Batman or James Bond was cooler. (Monica started giggling when Chandler claimed sleeping with Robin beat all the Bond girls, and he'd flushed bright red).

Eventually, in the early hours of the morning, Monica admitted she had to get back. She was working the evening shift the next day but she'd preferred not burning herself. Chandler insisted on walking her home, even though it was only up three flights of stairs, and he lived a street width away. (We're neighbours after all!)

It was only outside her door that things suddenly felt awkward. She rested one hand on the handle, shuffling from foot to foot. Normally this was when she'd invite a guy in (maybe for sex...maybe), or hope he'd ask to do it again but obviously neither one was appropriate tonight.

_And what's __**he **__thinking? Say something dammit!_

"I had a good time tonight." Chandler said hesitantly, shoving his hands in his pockets.

"Me too." Monica admitted frankly, dropping her grip on the door handle. "Well at least the second half."

He smiled awkwardly at her, running his hand through his hair. "I ,uh, only wish Doug asked me to take a beautiful woman out every night. My job would be a breeze!"

Instantly, Monica's stomach curled. This was just a job to him, he'd been ordered to come tonight and he'd have been just as nice to any other woman. She was an idiot to think she was anything more than an assignment to be checked off.

"Right." She said quietly. "Well, I hope the next woman works out for you. Goodnight Chandler."

She turned to go, and heard Chandler gasp behind her, his hands grabbing her shoulder, swinging her around. "Oh god, no Monica that wasn't what I meant! I didn't mean take out a _differen_t woman every night, I – I just meant I wish I was allowed to take you out every night. That's all." He stared at her with pleading eyes, hands still gripping her shoulders.

She blushed at the intimacy of their position, and as if realizing the same, he dropped his hands, wringing them together nervously.

"Sorry." He said again.

"It's fine." She said quickly, suppressing her blush and smile spreading across her face. "And uh, thanks, that's...that's the sweetest thing a guy has said to me...pretty much ever."

"Really? I thought you'd hear much smoother stuff all the time," He said, looking genuinely surprised. "Being so, y'know..." He gestured up and down her vaguely. "You."

"Thanks." She said her voice barely a whisper, staring into his eyes, Chandler gazed back at her, licking his lips. God, did he have to be so irresistible? They leaned slowly towards each other, all thoughts of how inappropriate this was fleeing.

Then she heard him swallow, and drop a kiss on her cheek instead, lips barely brushing her skin. He pulled back hastily, confliction dancing across his face.

"I –I have to go." He blurted. "Good night."

And he fled.

**X-X**

**A/N: Hmmm, so Chandler's definitely hiding something...more will be revealed soon! Thoughts? Making them neighbours was a late addition, but I wanted to stay close to the show and also places them very close together for developing feelings...The third chapter should be up much quicker, (I won't make you wait another month), the first one was more of a preview. And please review!**


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